Transportation and Lifts
by TheSummerNightingale
Summary: In the Department of Magical Transportations, there are four subdivisions. For the Ministry, this means efficient management of the four major methods of transportation. For the hands of fate, this means four moments of time for two kinds of people. And for Hermione and Blaise, this means four meetings that bring them closer every time the lifts transport them together.


****Written for Quidditch League, Round 10 for Keeper of Tutshill Tornados! :)****

****Word Count: 3,083 without the A/N****

****I haven't written anything in awhile, so this was a nice break from studies. I've never really written about any of the Golden Trio on their adult age, so that's new in my experience. BlaisexHermione is also a new pairing for me that I've recently become fond of. Yay for new things, I guess! :)****

****Hope you enjoy!  
****

* * *

In the Department of Magical Transportations, there are four subdivisions.

For the Ministry, this means efficient management of the four major methods of transportation. It means order, it means categorization, and it means nothing more.

For the hands of fate, this amounts to four meetings. Four chances. It means four moments of time for two kinds of people. And it means so much more.

* * *

I. The Apparation Test Center

* * *

Hermione Granger was not pleased with the turn of events.

First of all, she had not enjoyed the trip from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the Department of Magical Transportations on a lift that contained perfect strangers who would not stop asking her if she was okay from her break-up with Ron - _it was personal_, thank you very much, and furthermore, _she'd_been the one to break up with him, not the other way around.

And it had happened _three weeks ago_, two weeks and six days longer than the article in the _Prophet_this morning had supposed. She neither needed, wanted, nor cared for the reminder.

If that wasn't taxing enough, then the actual cause for her to travel along to the Apparation Test Center was.

Apparently, her passionate campaigning for elvish rights had caused some Hogwarts house-elves to, out of their joy, she hoped, Apparate into stores all around Hogsmeade during Christmas, an act that had store owners sending owls and owls of complaints to her.

Of course, Hermione thought they were dramatizing the event a tad. Honestly, the house elves just wanted a bit of fun! Hermione didn't see much harm in elves popping into wizarding stores - it wasn't like they had any special elf ones to go to for themselves.

But as it was, the head of her department, Arthur Bridges, agreed with the Hogsmeade shop owners.

"The elves have gone too far, Hermione," he said. "At least try to work it out. Put some restrictions. Talk with the Apparation Control about talking to the elves."

This brought on Hermione's adventure to the Apparation Center, which would have been more bearable had she not bumped into Blaise Zabini.

"Hermione Granger," said Blaise as Hermione approached the office of the head of the department.

She nodded at the tall, dark Italian, who stood outside the closed office door with a folder in his hands. The two were not on a normal speaking basis; far from it, actually, and Hermione remembered why when Blaise opened his mouth again.

"So you and Weasley broke up?"

Hermione pursed her lips and stepped up to the door, tucking her binder under her arm. "Is Madam Edgecombe in?"

"I can only imagine how delighted the _Prophet _was to run off that article," continued Blaise.

Hermione rapped on the door, probably more sharply than she should have.

"She's not in there," said Blaise, as if she had not asked just two seconds ago. "I think Kingsley called her in, so we'll be waiting awhile. Fun, huh?"

"Lots," said Hermione. She pulled out her wand and conjured up two chairs, and seated herself in one.

"I feel honoured," said Blaise, shaking his head in mock reverence. "Hermione Granger, _the Hermione Granger_, just conjured a chair for me! A whole chair! Both legs, and everything."

"Zabini," she warned icily. "There won't be a chair if you keep harping on about it."

His amber eyes sparkled. "Ooh, I forgot you've a temper," he said. "Nasty one, at that."

Hermione made a subtle movement with her wand, and the second chair disappeared.

"Ouch."

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "Now please be quiet."

Blaise did not oblige. "How's Potter?" he asked brightly.

Hermione inhaled sharply, then gave him a tight lipped smile. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" She nodded at the folder he was holding. "You work in the same department."

She opened her binder to aimlessly flip through the pages.

Blaise didn't say anything for a few minutes, and Hermione was thanking Merlin for the silence when she heard his voice in her ear.

"For the record, Granger, I applaud you for breaking up with Weasley."

Hermione briskly stood up, slamming her binder shut. A steady flush that had nothing to do with the warmth of his breath rose up her neck and seeped into her cheeks. She spun around to face Blaise, saying testily, "Please don't make the assumption you can talk about my love life to me, Zabini."

He gave a low bow, probably to mock her, but there was an unreadable expression on his face that made her wonder if he was being sincere. "Of course not, Ms. Granger."

She gave a little harrumph as she jabbed her wand at the chair, which disappeared.

They spent the rest of the time in silence, but when Madam Edgecombe returned and asked which of them would like to conference with her first, Blaise turned to Hermione and said, "Ladies first," in the same mocking-but-sincere tone.

"You can go," she said grudgingly.

"No, you."

"No, you got here first."

"Only by a minute or so."

"Yes, well, you go!"

"Honestly, ladies fir-"

"Mr. Zabini, Ms. Granger," interrupted Madam Edgecombe sharply, "please do decide quickly. I've got to attend to other matters soon." When both Hermione and Blaise opened their mouths, she held up her hand. "Oh, never mind, no silly bickering again. Ms. Granger, I'll take you first."

* * *

II. Broom Regulatory Control

* * *

A week later, Hermione found herself returning to the Department of Magical Transportation, this time to the Broom Regulatory Control. As she stepped from the lift onto the busy floor, Hermione made her way towards Rhonda Paige's cubicle.

The first thing she noticed was that seated by the cubicle was none other than Blaise Zabini himself.

"Hermione!" said Blaise, looking positively stunned to see her. "What a delight."

She gave him a tight smile. "I can almost say the same," she said, looking around. "Where's Ms. Paige?"

"Went to fetch something for me," said Blaise, winking. "You know, all the ladies seem to like helping a guy like me out."

"That's a bit disturbing," Hermione said, sitting on the chair next to him.

He grinned. "So what are you here for?" asked Blaise. "Saving me from my solitude, I suppose."

She pointedly ignored his comment. "Ginny Weasley. I'm sure you've heard. The broomstick malfunctioning at her game last Saturday?"

"Oh yeah," Blaise nodded seriously. "Yeah. Kind of reminds me of that time in first year where Potter's broom went weird too."

Hermione vigorously nodded. She'd thought of the same connection last night.

"The good days at Hogwarts," he sighed. He tapped his chin with a long, elegant finger. "Huh, we never talked a lot in school, did we?"

"No, we didn't."

"Shame," he said. "I'm sure my younger self would have enjoyed intellectual talks with you." He saw the look on her face. "What?"

"I'm not sure my younger self would agree."

"Why not?"

She gave him a mocking nod. "Because Purebloods are infinitely better than Mudbloods."

Blaise was silent as he stared at her with an unreadable expression. Finally, he said in an even tone, "How would you know if I thought that or not?"

She fidgeted, suddenly wishing she hadn't been so scathing. "I just supposed that your younger self wouldn't want to talk with my younger self," she said uncomfortably. "Gryffindor, Slytherin, and all that."

Blaise turned from her, staring at the corner of the desk. "Right. The Houses, ever separating us from our fate." He gave the desk a wry smile.

"Hm?"

He waved a hand in the air. "Never mind, Hermione," he said, glancing up at her. She found herself being drawn to the amber tones in his eyes as he said, "We're done with that phase now, aren't we?"

For some reason, her face grew hotter. "I - yes, of course."

"Great." He gave her a dazzling smile that was almost infectious. He stood up with a sigh. "Well, duty calls. See you around, Hermione."

He put up a hand in farewell and started to leave.

"Wait," Hermione blurted out, "what about your papers?"

Blaise didn't turn, but she could feel his winning smile from ten feet away. "Do tell Weasley that I commend her for being able to hang on her broomstick fifty feet off the ground, won't you?"

When Rhonda Paige returned two minutes later, she claimed that she had just been down to the Department of Law Enforcement, and that she had given Blaise his papers fifteen minutes ago.

"Charming fellow, don't you think?" the young woman said with a wink. "Very good-looking, too, if I daresay."

* * *

III. Floo Regulation Panel

* * *

"Why does it seem like," Hermione said tiredly, "you are everywhere I go?"

Blaise smiled at her, waving his black Auror folder in the air. "Maybe you're subconsciously stalking me."

"Oh, Merlin." Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the wall outside Madame Trent's, the Floo Regulation Head's, office. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the image of Blaise Zabini standing next to the door, the light from the enchanted windows illuminating his dark hair and handsome, chiseled face.

She had no such luck, as the image just resurfaced in her brain.

Hermione felt cloth brush against her right forearm and opened her eyes to find Blaise standing not two inches away from her, his head tipped back to rest against the wall.

She took a cautious step to her left and cleared her throat.

"What?" Blaise asked innocently.

"Nothing."

He shifted a little closer to her. She scooted further down the wall.

Blaise regarded her for a few, extremely awkward moments. He smiled. "You know," he said offhandedly, "it's rather fun to annoy you."

She chose not to comment, because she knew that if she did, it would come out sounding sardonic, and she had made a mental pact to be nicer to Blaise Zabini.

Ever since their talk at the Broom Regulatory Control, Hermione had been replaying what she'd said to Blaise, feeling guilter each time she recalled her automatic judgement of him. And it might have been her conscience creating subtle shifts to her memory of Blaise's tone, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought it sounded like he had truly been offended at her words.

She wanted apologize, but the idea seemed so ludicrous that she imagined it would feel like she was prostrating herself instead of just humiliating herself.

Hermione cast a glance towards Blaise. He was staring at her calmly, not looking in the least bothered by her presence.

She bit her lip. There was no going around it. She had to apologize, or she'd be eaten up by the guilt she felt.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out quickly, meeting Blaise's eyes briefly before flitting her gaze away. "For what I said last time."

"Hm?" Blaise cocked his head to the side, a small smile appearing on his face. "What was that?"

Why was he making her repeat it when he knew she knew perfectly well that he'd heard her? Hermione bit back an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry for what I said last time."

"Ah," said Blaise. He shifted so that he was resting on the wall on his side and facing her. "You don't actually think that I'm prejudiced against Muggleborns, do you?"

"Of course not!" she said quickly.

"Mhm. And you don't actually think that I think I'm _better_than you, do you?"

"No," she scowled.

"Or that… I don't know, previously-Gryffindor Muggleborns and previously-Slytherin Purebloods can't coexist?"

This one was a bit strange and rather specific, but Hermione replied just as vehemently, "Of course not!"

"Good," said Blaise lightly, "because I think none of that either."

And as Hermione watched Blaise's handsome, chiseled, always-contained face, she noticed that his eyes widened after speaking and his mouth parted, as if he had just realized he'd said something that was supposed to be kept in secret.

* * *

IV. Portkey Office

* * *

"It's not funny, Harry," said Hermione crossly.

Harry Potter chuckled. "I find it amusing."

She sighed, wringing her hands together. "It's just - he's _everywhere_! I can't avoid him! He's everywhere I go!"

"Yeah, but Hermione… are you sure you mind?"

"Mind?" Hermione gave Harry an incredulous look. "Of course I mind! He finds pleasure in annoying me, he's _told_me that." But even as she spoke, she could feel a faint blush fighting to rise on her cheeks.

"Maybe he likes your company," Harry mused.

"Oh, that's likely," she snorted.

"Well, either way, I hope you don't mind having another interaction with him soon," said Harry idly.

Hermione caught a glimpse of a smile in his eyes and immediately rounded up on her friend. "Harry," she said, "what are you hiding?"

"Nothing, 'Mione." Harry grinned at the murderous expression on her face. "Oh, I miss that look," he said, walking past her towards the lift. "Hey, you're coming to dinner with me, Ginny, and Ron, right?" He sounded hesitant, probably because of Ron, but Hermione and Ron had resolved their loose ends a couple of weeks ago, and their relationship was close to normal by now.

"Yes," Hermione said impatiently, "but _what did you mea _\- Harry James Potter, you come back here right now!"

But her friend just smiled as he stepped through the doors of the lift, waving as the doors clanged shut.

"_Honestly_, now," Hermione muttered to herself.

Shaking her head, she made her way onto a lift herself. She was supposed to be going up to the Portkey Office to work on a case that her boss had assigned her.

She was quite occupied in her thoughts and as a result, did not notice exactly who was on the lift before she entered. If she had, she would have certainly waited for the next one to come before getting on.

But as it was, Hermione did not notice Blaise until the doors clanged shut (and he, wisely, did not speak until she saw him).

"Oh Merlin, seriously?" she said irritably, shuffling to the corner of the lift furthest from him.

"Can't you even pretend to be happy to see me?" Blaise asked dramatically.

"No," said Hermione, but there was a really strange tingling sensation in her stomach, and she thought it might have something to do with the fact that the light was catching perfectly on his dark hair and amber eyes and his voice was so alluringly deep and smooth and rugged at the same time, and the sleeves of his button-up shirt were rolled up and he looked perfectly handsome without trying.

She violently shook her head as the lift shuddered to a stop, and the voice blared out, "_Level 3:The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, _and proceeded to list the subdivisions.

"So where are you headed?" Hermione asked, mainly to stop thinking about how he looked.

"Portkey Office."

Hermione closed her eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be working on the Alicia Knightly case, would you?" She could predict what the answer would be.

She heard Blaise let out a whoop. "Oh, this is excellent, absolutely excellent!"

The doors clanged shut, trapping them inside, and the lift continued to rise.

"This can't be a coincidence," Hermione murmured.

"Coincidences happen, Granger," said Blaise seriously.

Hermione spent the rest of the agonizingly long ride to Level 6 wondering just how coincidental coincidences could get.

"_Level 6: The Department of Magical Transportation. Subdivisions…"_

"Oh, we're here. Come along, Hermione!" said Blaise very cheerily.

Hermione grudgingly followed, weaving through the many cubicles of the Broom Regulatory Control until they arrived at the Portkey Office to meet the employee on the case.

Mr. Geoffrey Atkins was a man about Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt's age, with a fine light fuzz on his head and a graying beard. He put up a hand when he saw Hermione and Blaise.

"Good morning, Mr. Atkins," greeted Hermione and Blaise at the same time. Hermione shot a glance of annoyance at Blaise, and he gave her an amused smile in return.

"Ah, Ms. Granger and Mr. Zabini! Pleasure. Let's begin, shall we?"

The whole trip to Alicia Knightly's house to contain the woman who had gotten ahold of a Portkey that would transport her to America took only ten minutes, and Hermione had to attribute much that to Blaise's fine spellwork.

He worked very well under pressure, she observed. Quick spellwork, one that could really rival and maybe even overpower her own.

And something else that she observed was that they seemed to work in sync, interpreting each other's actions at the right time, taking turns at the wheel, switching off in perfect balance that lasted from the very beginning to the end. She Apparated back to the Ministry feeling rather at a loss, especially since she could see that Blaise had felt that synchronization as well.

When the papers were all accounted for in the Portkey Office, Geoffrey dismissed Hermione and Blaise with the praise that they seemed to work well together.

"Good thing you requested to work with her, eh, Zabini?" asked Geoffrey heartily as he turned back to his cubicle.

Hermione blinked, repeating his words in her head, before she spun on Blaise. "What did he just say?"

"Nothing," said Blaise, but it was very unconvincing because he was avoiding her eyes and not at all being the boisterous Blaise Zabini whom she'd met in the Apparation Test Center, spoken with in the Broom Regulatory Control, apologized to in the Floo Regulation Control, worked with in the Portkey Office, and gotten to know in the Department of Magical Transportation.

Blaise began to walk towards the lifts, Hermione on his heels.

"What did he mean by that? You requested to work with me?"

"Nothing, Granger."

Hermione remembered her talk with Harry not an hour ago. "Harry did say something about-"

"I am going to murder Potter," muttered Blaise.

She stopped mid-sentence, changing gears as she followed him into an open lift. "What is going on?"

Blaise sighed, drumming his fingers on the wall of the lift. When he spoke, it was in a casual, though fast-paced, tone. "If I told you I went through the trouble and humiliation of asking Potter to help me meet up with you everywhere, and then told you that I did it because I fancy you, you wouldn't believe me, would you?"

And then lift doors clanged shut, taking the view of the Department of Magical Transportation with them.

* * *

****I know I should have probably elaborated more on the ending, but I kind of like it like this. A bit mysterious to tie it in with the beginning. I might come back to write a continuation of this, but for now, I'm going to keep it as a one-shot! ****

****I feel like my writing's gone a little rusty, so please do constructive-criticism it away. :)****

****Thanks everyone! 3****

****\- Summer ****


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